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On Ile de Re, a Luminous Seascape

By CATHERINE TEXIER;

Published: May 1, 1994

TWO miles off the Atlantic coast of France, facing La Rochelle, lies the Ile de Re. It's an island of whitewashed fishermen's villages, fine sand beaches, wild hollyhocks, salt marshes and a luminosity so subtle and intense that it can move the most prosaic visitors to grab their watercolors and try to capture the shimmering reflections of the light at low tide. Others, however, might have a sudden yen to go shelling and bring back buckets of bigorneaux, black snail-like shells so tiny you have to extract their flesh with the head of a pin.

Ile de Re also shares the privilege with the Cote d'Azur of being one of the sunniest regions of France. Its climate is mild, and the temperature almost never goes below freezing. Its vegetation is surprisingly southern, almost Mediterranean. Pine trees and palms grow there easily, and the glare of the white houses against the deep blue sky irresistibly evokes some Greek village adrift on the Atlantic Ocean.

Even the heavy flow of tourism (100,000 visitors each summer) brought by the six-year-old toll bridge to the mainland has not been able to spoil Re's charm, and in winter, the island is lived-in but tranquil.

Re's population is made up of the traditional fishermen and farmers and recent arrivals: retired people, commuters from La Rochelle and people working in tourism. The numerous hotels and restaurants, many of them charming, are mostly open year round; some close in December and January. The accommodations range from deluxe hotels to simple inns. The food is spectacular: fresh oysters and lobsters, a huge variety of seafood and delicious crepes.

Re, which is about 18 miles long and 3.5 miles at its widest, was originally four islands -- St.-Martin, Loix, Ars and Les Portes -- separated by narrow channels that gradually closed up, allowing salt marshes to develop around the Fier d'Ars bay. Until the end of the 19th century, salt was the island's major product. The production has since fallen from a peak of 32,000 tons annually to the present 2,000 tons. The Maison du Marais Salant, the salt marsh museum in Loix, organizes guided tours of the marshes, and many visitors leave the island with a bag of the coarse, iodine-packed gray salt.

Wine, oysters and potatoes are now the island's principal resources. The vineyards belong to the same appellation controlee as the mainland Pineau des Charentes and Cognac, and you will find both, as well as delicious, plentiful and inexpensive oysters.

The island can easily be toured in a weekend, but you'll need more time to visit it the proper way, on a bike. Well before the bridge was built, and before the ferry brought carloads of tourists, the Retais had been conducting their lives on bikes, and they still do. An extraordinary network of narrow lanes connects villages, vineyards, woods and beaches. They take you places that cars can't, and that are a bit too far to walk to. In summer, throngs of bicycles carry babies, grandparents and every age in between.

On this island of open fields and mud flats, the rides are painless and never boring. The first time my family and I, who don't usually ride bikes, took out our rented bikes, we did a 25-mile round trip (including a break for crepes and for swimming) with our 12-year-old daughter riding along, plus a toddler on the back of one of the bikes. And we were ready to start over the next day.

As soon as you get off the bridge from the mainland, you have a choice of two routes. The north road goes to the harbors of La Flotte and St.-Martin-de-Re; the south road goes to the farm villages and beaches. Eventually, both roads merge, leading to the western elbow-shaped end of the island.

St.-Martin-de-Re, with 4,000 inhabitants, is Re's main village. Its small jewel of a harbor was built in 1687 by Sebastien le Prestre de Vauban, noted architect for Louis XIV, who enclosed it with fortifications to protect it from the dreaded British. The battle fleet is long gone, and these days St.-Martin shelters only pleasure boats and a few fishing boats.

The cafes stretching their terraces in the sun offer wonderful spots to watch boats sail back at high tide. Behind the harbor, little streets lined with sportswear boutiques, tackle shops and antiques stores lead to the 15th-century Eglise St.-Martin. The church was considered a masterpiece of Gothic architecture until it was severely damaged during the Huguenot Wars between Catholics and Protestants in the 16th century and once again in another war in 1696. It was then patched up several times through the 18th century. The Place de la Republique, near the church, is notable for its elegant 17th- and 18th-century facades. Along your way are typical venelles, or alleys, overgrown with hollyhocks, just wide enough for a bike or a couple on foot.

The lovely Hotel de Clerjotte, a 15th-century house just up the block from the harbor, is now a naval and art museum, the Musee Naval et Ernest-Cognacq, which is known for its faience and furniture.

St.-Martin is famous for its citadel, also built by Vauban in the 17th century. It was later converted into a clearinghouse for convicts on their way to the penal colonies of New Caledonia and French Guiana. Capt. Alfred Dreyfus stopped there on his way to Devils Island after his conviction for treason in 1894, and it remains an active prison. The bicycle path will take you along the ramparts and the citadel walls, and under the Porte Toiras, a 17th-century arch of sculptured stone at the entrance to the old town.